


A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Smithsonian (The World Turned Upside Down)

by like_a_raven, mountain_born



Series: The Marvelous Tale of an Agent, an Archer, and an Assassin [46]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Doctor Who/Avengers Crossover Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-29 22:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15738444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/like_a_raven/pseuds/like_a_raven, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mountain_born/pseuds/mountain_born
Summary: It's just a simple visit to a museum.  What could go wrong?





	A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Smithsonian (The World Turned Upside Down)

**October 2012**

Valerie Custis was having a _Monday_.  Meetings were running long, things were going missing, and assorted minor crises were breaking out, blowing up, getting resolved, and magically respawning like zombies in a bad video game.

“What comes next?” her assistant asked, as Valerie finally made it back to her office.

“Breakfast,” Valerie said..

Miranda looked pointedly at the clock.  “It’s 1 p.m.”

“I know,” Valerie said.  “Just hold everything for fifteen minutes, would you?  No calls, no visitors, just keep everything at bay long enough for me to eat a bagel that’s probably halfway to stale and drink the rest of my stone-cold coffee.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Miranda promised.

Valerie got twelve minutes and about three quarters of the bagel before there was a knock at the door, and Miranda leaned into the office, eyes wide.

“Sorry, but you have a call.  For ‘the most gracious Lady Valerie.’  Says his name is Thor, Son of Odin. I’d think it was a prank, but the caller ID is coming up with these really weird symbols like I didn’t even known the phone could display.” Miranda frowned.  “I think they might be runes.”

“Runes.”

“Is this actually, you know . . . _him_?”

“Thor, Son of Odin, Hero of New York, God of Thunder?” Valerie supplied.  “Yeah, think it is. He said he might call.”

“Well, he’s on hold,” Miranda said.  “I think, anyway. I asked him to hold, but I’m not sure entirely understood, because he asked me what he was supposed to hold.”  She paused. “He was very loud.” 

Valerie pinched the bridge of her nose for a second, then picked up her coffee cup and drained what was left in it.  “I think you better put him through.”

***

“Is this a good time, Coulson?”  

Phil looked up from the mess covering his desk.  On Fury’s orders, he’d moved to a new office the week before, one that was closer to the main Admin Suite.  It made sense, in his new role as Avengers Liaison, but given that there’d been no break in duties or deadlines, it meant he couldn’t find anything.  

“Do you see my stapler?” he asked, rather than answering Agent Lin.

“Under those files, I think.”

“Thanks.”  He was still trying to figure out exactly what to do with Agent Alex Lin, who had arrived as his newly appointed Deputy Liaison the same day he’d moved offices.  Phil’s objections had been waved aside by Fury. “You’re gonna need a right hand man, Coulson. Or the paperwork on Stark alone will probably bury you. I’ll have Nadine bring you some files.  Pick somebody.”

Of course, not everyone was going to be able to help coordinate the disparate fighting styles of an archer, a supersoldier, a master assassin, a demigod with a hammer, a billionaire with an advanced robotic suit and, well, the Hulk.  Lin had been the standout in the dossiers that Nadine Washington had brought to Phil’s new office.

Four years earlier, Lin had been a field agent with a promising future when a mission had gone sideways in Myanmar and he’d lost his left leg just below the knee.  He’d done a long stint in the rehab facility in Toronto, then been in charge of Meg Downing’s security for about a year. He’d come back to New York just before the Battle of New York with a glowing recommendation from the former Director.  Since then, he’d been working as an analyst, with a growing reputation for being able to adapt a plan on the fly and keep an eye on the big picture.

He was going to be helpful and even necessary as the role of the Avengers got formalized and expanded.   But Phil didn’t know him well yet, and he wasn’t used to asking for help running his team.

“Coulson, is this a bad time?” Lin said and Phil realized he’d been standing there for at least a minute.

“Sorry, no.  Um, have a seat,” Phil said, with a gesture to the chair in front of his desk. Lin moved the pile of folders in the chair to the edge of the desk and sat down.  “What’s up?”

“We have a meeting tomorrow?  On a plane to DC?”

“Yeah.  Getting all of the Avengers in the same place at the same time is a challenge.  But Clint and River have a presentation at the Triskelion tomorrow, Cap’s laying a wreath with a Girl Scout troop at Arlington, Stark’s got some meeting at the Pentagon, and then he and Banner are going on to a conference in Geneva.  Stark offered to give everyone a ride on his jet, and I asked Thor if he’d come along so I could introduce them all to you.”

“All at once.”

“That a problem, Lin?”

“It’s a little intimidating, I’ll be honest.”

“It’s better that way.  Like ripping off a Band-Aid.”

“If you say so,” Lin said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “So when am I headed back here?  Do I need to pack a bag?”

“You might as well come with us to the Triskelion.  Clint and River are taking the train that evening. You can go with them.  I’m going the next morning.”

“Third wheel to Strike Team Delta.  That sounds . . . fun.”

“You can go back with Cap, if you’d rather.”

Lin stood and started for the door that connected their offices.  “I’ll just make my own arrangements, unless you need me to be somewhere, and I’ll see you at 0700 tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.  You’ll be fine, Lin.  If you can handle Downing, you can handle Stark.”

“That’s probably true, when you put it –”

The door to Phil’s office banged open and Agent Jefferson Miller barged in.  “I need a minute.”

Miller had, by dint of seniority and God alone knew what else, gotten himself appointed to handle official SHIELD PR for the Avengers.  Maybe he had been good at his job before, Phil had no idea. SHIELD was usually trying to downplay if not outright hide their activities and that probably called for a different approach than promoting high-profile types like Cap and Stark.  Miller seemed to have sixty-four ways to say “No comment” and the ability to alienate everyone who met him.

“Miller.  Please, won’t you come in?” Phil said, and heard Lin snort.

Miller looked over at Lin, the snort not lost on him even if the sarcasm apparently was.  “Give us the room, would you?”

“Just leaving,” Lin said, and closed the door behind him.

“How’d you get him, anyway?” Miller asked, sitting in the chair Lin had just left.

“Fury’s office assigned him.”

“Must be nice to have Washington on your side.”

“He was the best man for the job,” Phil said, not entirely sure what he’d just been accused of, but completely sure he didn’t like the insinuation.  

“You know, Knox has been requesting that Lin be transferred to our department for months.”

“What would he do in PR? He’s an analyst.”

“Security for press conferences.”

“The man has a practical tactical brilliance.  That’s a waste of his talents.”

Miller frowned.  “They’re high profile events.  Especially now.”

“I guess,” Phil said.  “Was that what you came to talk about?  Because I have a lot to do before tomorrow, so if that was it . . .”

“No,” Miller said.  “I came to tell you that you need to control your girlfriend.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“Your girlfriend.  Vanessa Curtis.”

“Valerie. Custis.  What about her?”

“You need to get her under control.”

 _I suddenly understand how this man is 43 and has been divorced four times,_ Phil thought.  “Miller, I have no idea what you are talking about, but careful how you proceed.”  

“So she didn’t ask you, either?”

"I would appreciate it if you would explain whatever it is you’re here to explain right now.”

“Ms. Curtis –”

“ _Custis_.”

“—has set up some kind of PR stunt with Thor.”

“What?”

“She’s got Thor going to the Smithsonian tomorrow.  Something about dinosaurs. Nothing has been cleared with my office.  She had the audacity to call and tell us that it was all set up, and that she ‘just wanted to let us know.’  Then she called back and let us know that Banner would be there, too. In a _voicemail_.  That woman has no respect for protocol.”

“Okay, first of all, you’re going to need to talk about _that woman_ with a whole lot more respect.  Second of all, I am trying to understand what is going on here, so you are going to need to back up and explain _exactly_ what the hell you are talking about.”

Agent Miller glared at him.  “Apparently, Ms. _Custis_ is organizing some kind of appearance tomorrow with Thor going to look at dinosaurs.  I called her, as soon as I learned about it, and tried to explain that all appearances by members of the Avengers have to be set up through my office.  That she could submit a request and that we would review it and get back to her in four to six weeks. If it was approved, we’d try to set something up for late winter or early spring.”

“And?”

“And she told me it wasn’t ‘an appearance,’ just a visit she’s setting up as a favor to an acquaintance.”

“Well, he did ask about seeing the dinosaur display.  It came up at Stark’s party.” Phil paused, to let that land.  Miller had not been happy about being left off the guest list. “She told him to call her sometime and she’d set something up.  It sounds like he did, so she did. It’s honestly probably nothing she wouldn’t do for anyone else who asked her.”

“Right.  And you want me to believe that she’s not planning to use this to promote the museum in any way?  That this isn’t going to wind up on social media or anything like that?”

“It probably will,” Phil conceded.

“And that’s not acceptable.  You’re going to have to tell her she can’t do this.  She won’t even take my calls. At first she was foisting me off on some Hamilton woman, and now I’m just going to voicemail.”

“Miranda Hamilton, but I guess you get points for knowing half her name.  Look, I understand that for some reason you’ve decided this is a good hill to die on, but you can’t tell Thor, the sovereign prince of another realm, that he can’t go to a museum in his free time.  And if you are planning to do that, please let me know so I can be there. After the week I’ve had, I could use the laugh.”

“I don’t think you’re taking this very seriously.”

“You’d be right.  Thor’s visiting a museum.  Sounds like Banner is going with him.  It’s a museum. It’s the Smithsonian. What are you afraid he’s endorsing here?  Evolution? Dorothy’s shoes?”

“It’s the princip—”

“Miller, I don’t have time for this. Don’t call Valerie again.  I’ll ask her and Thor to keep it low key, but that’s all I will do.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to do.”

“Coulson --”

“Close the door on your way out.”

***

Phil had attempted to call Valerie that afternoon three times and gone straight to voicemail three times.  After the third, she texted back “Busy. Call tonight unless emergncy.” Given that she had misspelled _emergency_ and not bothered to correct it, Phil was willing to bet that the current situation was not going to meet her definition.

He was, however, willing to stretch the definition of _tonight_ far enough to mean 6:30 p.m.

She answered on the third ring.  “I don’t know what you heard, but whatever it is, Jefferson started it.”

Phil paused.  “You call him _Jefferson_?”

“Isn’t that his name?  Agent Jefferson Miller of SHIELD?” she said, in a passable if hyperbolic impression of his pompous introduction.  “Why? What do you call him?”

“Miller, mostly,” Phil said.

“Out of curiosity, what does Clint call him?” Valerie asked.

“Miller, mostly,” Phil repeated, then qualified, “when he’s being polite.  Well, polite-ish.”

“That man is horrid,” Valerie said.  “He made Miranda cry.”

“Miranda?  Your assistant?  Wasn’t she a Marine?”

“Yes.  She said she’d take a Parris Island drill sergeant over Miller any day of the week.”  

“I’m sorry.”

“But not surprised?” Valerie asked.  “I assume he came whining to you about tomorrow.  I called him as a courtesy, Phil. I don’t actually need his or SHIELD’s permission to show an acquaintance around a museum.”

“I know that, Val.”

“Has anyone told him?  Because-- oh, hold on.” Phil could hear an indistinct voice in the background followed by Valerie, slightly muffled, saying “No, lunch is already planned and the table is full.  Did we hear back about the gift bags? Good.” There was a slight pause, and then she said more distinctly, “Sorry.”

“Are you still at work?” Phil asked.

“Yeah.”

“Kind of late for you, isn’t it?  Sounds like a lot of work for showing an acquaintance around a museum,” Phil said carefully.

“Don’t start with me, Coulson,” Valerie said.  “And don’t flatter yourselves. You really think he’s the first royalty to visit the Smithsonian?”

“Probably not.”

“Good guess.  Anyway, I mostly stayed because I’ve got to go meet Mina’s train at Union Station.”

“What’s she coming in for?” Phil asked, hoping he hadn’t forgotten something he was going to get in trouble for not remembering.  But he didn’t think Valerie had mentioned anything about her niece coming to visit.

“All of her Christmas presents for the next thirty years, basically,” Valerie said.

“Oh, right.  The Thor crush.”

“Yeah.  I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Phil hung up the phone and sat for a moment.  On the one hand, he wasn’t really expecting anything to happen just because Thor and Bruce Banner were visiting a museum.

On the other hand, he hadn’t expected most of what had happened in the last seven years.  

It was probably somewhere between being overly cautious and downright paranoid.  Then again, to paraphrase Mr. Heller, just because he was paranoid didn’t mean there was no way aliens were going to land in the middle of DC.  Phil would just feel better if SHIELD was around while Valerie was escorting one third of the Avengers around the National Mall. Honestly, he’d like to be there himself, but that wasn’t going to happen.  Still, he wanted someone on hand. Just in case.

The problem was that if he was going to bother to send someone -- especially on their own, and in case of something that required more of a response than Thor was on his own -- it needed to be someone with the skills, talent, and clearance to actually be useful in that situation.  That required an agent above a certain level, and there just weren’t that many of them. On top of that, given the fact that it was basically going to be a five-hour mission tomorrow, Phil needed to find someone relatively close to DC already, but not currently tied up in anything more important.  (Which, if he was being honest, would be pretty much anything.)

His first choice would be Melinda May, but she was off dealing with some kind of crisis involving the not-at-all-melodramatically named Rising Tide.  He pulled up a list of unassigned agents, level six and above, currently based on the East Coast but not actively in the field.

It was not a long list.  And there was very obvious choice near the top of it.

Valerie would not be happy about unasked for back-up, if she knew.  Clint would not be happy about Phil choosing this particular back-up, if he knew.

But, Phil reasoned as he picked up the phone, neither of them was ever likely to know.

“Agent Lin?  Would you see if you can get Grant Ward on the phone for me?”

***

As annoying as Clint generally found the man, he was not going to deny that there were definite perks to hanging out with Tony Stark.  The private plane was one. Watching Stark kick Agent Miller off the private plane was another.

Clint was surprised when Miller came swaggering across the tarmac and onto Stark’s plane.  Clint and River had had breakfast with Phil to go over their Triskelion presentation one last time, and Phil hadn’t mentioned that Miller was coming along.  He usually did, along with an request to please play nice. For a moment, Clint wondered if that meant Phil had either decided that Clint was more grown up than he’d been getting credit for, or if Phil had just decided there was no point in asking, anyway.

  
Miller was all settled into his seat before it occurred to Clint that Phil hadn’t known Miller was planning to tag along.  For that matter, neither had anyone else.

“You’re not on the manifest,” Stark said, stopping abruptly as he came down the aisle.  Behind him, Bruce looked around and then dropped into the closest empty seat, retreating up against bulkhead and out of the conversation.

Agent Miller’s face shifted into what Clint assumed the man thought was a smile.  “You have such a droll sense of humor, Mr. Stark.”

Stark caught Clint’s eye.  “Did you hear a joke, Barton?” he asked, feigning confusing. Clint shrugged.  Stark turned back to Miller. “Seriously, what are you doing on my plane?”

“You’re all making public appearances today,” Miller said.  “As the person handling your PR, I am, of course, accompanying you.”

Clint stood up and leaned over the back of seat in front of him.  “None of us are making public appearances today,” he said. “River and I are literally taking a private plane to give an invitation-only seminar in a secure building.  I don’t know how to make that less public. And Stark’s --”

“-- going to a meeting at the Pentagon,” Stark said, “and I doubt any of you have the national security clearance to know what floor of the building I’ll be on, never mind who I’m meeting or what we’re talking about.”

“Fine,” Miller said.  “But Captain Rogers --”

“We’ve been over this, Agent Miller,” Cap said, without bothering to get up or even look over at the man.  “No publicity. Jim Morita’s great-grandaughter has invited me to join her Brownie troop, who are going to tour Arlington National Cemetery and leave flowers at Jim’s grave.  Far as I’m concerned, this is a family event. Not a thing I’m doing for publicity.”

“That’s unbelievably naive, Captain.  Everyone has a camera these days. You showing up at Arlington with a descendant of one of the Howling Commandos is going to be news whether you want it to or not.”

“And, as I already said, you’re welcome to respond to any requests for comments by saying that Captain Rogers attended a personal event in Arlington and no further information will be released.  It’s not rocket science, Agent Miller.”

“As an expert in rocket science, I can vouch for that,” Stark put in.

“Why do you assume you’re the smartest in the room, Mr. Stark?” Miller asked.

“Generally because it saves time,” Stark said.

“Well, Dr. Banner and Thor are making a public appearance at the Smithsonian,” Miller declared, sounding like he thought he had just played some kind of trump card.  Bruce looked up at the sound of his name, and looked over to Stark.

“Please,” Stark said.  “They’re recreating all the experiences Thor missed out on by never being a middle school boy.  First they’re going on a field trip to see dinosaurs, then they’re going to go stand awkwardly against the wall in a gym and wonder how to get a girl to dance with them.”

“Hey,” Bruce said.

"Point is, we don’t need you today, Agent Miller.  And you’re in his seat,” Stark said, pointing to Agent Lin, who  was now frozen in the hatchway, probably wondering if he really wanted to continue onto the plane.

“Off you go, Agent Miller,” Stark said.  “Eliza?” A flight attendant appeared from the galley.  “Eliza, could you show Agent Miller back to the tarmac?  Thanks.”

“But --”

“We’ll call you when we get back.”

Clint watched as Eliza escorted the still-protesting Miller past Agent Lin and off the plane.  

“Agent Lin, welcome aboard,” Stark said. “Sit anywhere.”

Thor came bounding up the aisle like the Asgardian golden retriever Clint occasionally thought of him as.  River was just behind him, holding a cardboard cup of what Clint knew was tea. She sat down in the seat next to his. “What’d I miss?”

***

It took slightly longer to get out of the National Museum of American History than Valerie had anticipated.  Thor, even in jeans and a Smithsonian baseball cap from his gift bag, was pretty recognizable. There was a lot of stopping for handshakes and selfies.  

And then he spotted the new exhibit on the history of Captain America and the Battle of New York and insisted on going in to see it.  Increasingly frantic text messages were arriving from Thomas, who was coordinating things at Natural History, most of which were variations on the theme of _WHERE R U????_

In hindsight, Valerie probably should either have had Thor and Bruce go straight to Natural History or a least planned a less prominent route from the one museum to the other.  But she wanted to show things off at least a little. The National Mall was, in her opinion, a fairly impressive display of museums and monuments.

Valerie texted _Working on it_ back to Thomas and then watched Thor pose with a group of Cub Scouts.  “Any idea how to get him back on track?” she asked Bruce Banner, who was managing to pass totally noticed, along with everyone else trailing in Thor’s wake.

Bruce shrugged.  “I can turn green and punch him, but I don’t think it’s a great solution.”

“Probably not.”  

Valerie turned to her niece, who was following along silently and wide-eyed with Miranda.  “Mina, would you see if you can get our guest out the front door?” Valerie asked.

“Me?” Mina asked, somehow managing to get even more wide-eyed.

“None of the rest of us seem to be able to manage it,” Valerie said.

Mina’s frowned.  “I can . . . try?”

Two minutes later, Valerie made a mental note to tell her brother that his daughter was going to make a hell of a diplomat one day.

“It’s the best place for a picture, if you don’t mind,” Mina said, heading for the front door.

“By all means, lead the way,” Thor said cheerfully, trailing along behind her.

Valerie slipped back up to the front of the group.  “And after you get your picture,” she said, “we can head over to Natural History.”

She turned to point up the Mall to the other building.  And then turned back to . . .

 . .  to . . .

“Are those new?” Mina asked, pointing at the two massive statues of men in colonial garb, aiming pistols at each other just in front of the museum.

“Very,” Valerie said.  In that they hadn’t been there a second before.

“And what great battle do these warriors commemorate?” Thor asked.

“Um,” Valerie said.  They reminded her of something, but she couldn’t quite place it.

Behind her, a tourist tapped Bruce on the shoulder.  “Pardon me,” she said, pointing to the closer of the two statues.  “Is that Aaron Burr, sir?”

Valerie turned around.  “Miranda, would you please take Mina back to my office?  I think we better call Phil.”

***

Phil was sitting in the back of the auditorium, listening to Clint and River’s presentation, when his phone buzzed.  He glanced at the caller ID, and then, with apologies as he stepped over Agent Lin, got up and headed for the hall.

“Hey, Val.  Everything okay?”

“I’m texting you a picture,” she said, and Phil felt his phone buzz again.

He lowered the phone long enough to look at the picture.  “And what is it?”

“Near as we can tell, it’s the Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr duel.  It just appeared on the Mall.”

“Of course it did.”  Phil glanced at the picture again, but it wasn’t a great angle for scale.  “How big are those things?”

“Bruce says about, what, 180 feet?”

“Approximately,” Phil heard Bruce confirm.

“He’s scanning them now,” Valerie said.

“With what?”

“A pair of really fancy glasses and an AI named Angelica,” Valerie said. “I think Tony developed her.”

Of course he did.

“Are those weapons functional?” Phil asked.  

“We don’t think so,” Valerie said.  “As far as Bruce and Angelica can tell, they’re just  . . . hollow. And made of a metal Angelica can’t identify.”

“Okay.  Try to get people away from them.  I’ll text you some authorization. But I want to get this under SHIELD’s control before someone else takes over.”

“I think I can probably use the demigod with the hammer as any authorization I need,” Valerie said.

“I’ll text it anyway.  And we’ll be there as soon as we can.  I’ll try to get some back up to you, too.”

“Okay.”

“Val?  Be careful.”

“Demigod.  Hammer. I’ll be fine,” she said.  “And text fast. Looks like the DC police are headed over.”

Phil hung up, pulled up something that he hoped would pass as authorization, and sent it to Valerie’s phone.  He leaned back into the auditorium. “Lin.”

Agent Lin got up and stepped out into the hall.  “What’s up?”

“Get them off stage,” he said.  “Call Laurens and tell her we’re going to need a helicopter.  And have someone call the President. We need to borrow his lawn.”

“Okay.  What are you going to do?”

Phil pulled up Grant Ward’s phone number.  “Piss off Clint. And probably Valerie.”

Ward didn’t answer, but a moment later, Phil’s phone beeped as a text arrived.  “Don’t worry, sir. I’m already on my way to get to the bottom of this.”

Phil replied, then headed down to meet Clint and River.  “I’ll brief you in the air,” he said. “Oh, and Ward will be there when we land.”

“Oh, this should be fun,” River said.

***

Grant Ward made his way down the steps of the Natural History museum.  The statue of Alexander Hamilton stood directly in front of the entrance, staring toward Aaron Burr and the Washington Monument.  The crowds around him seemed about evenly split between people heading away from the giant statues and people busy taking selfies in front of them.

He paused at the intersection of 12th and Madison, between the two statues, and looked at the scene in front of him.  It was easy enough to spot Thor -- the man was tall. And Dr. Banner must be the man slowly circling the statue. Which meant the brunette in the striped suit was probably Valerie Custis.  

She looked, Ward thought, as he headed toward her, exactly like the sort of person he would expect to see Phil Coulson involved with -- polished, put-together, and professional. He was willing to bet she was going to be bright, capable, and charming.  Coulson, after all, was a perceptive and intelligent agent, potentially to a problematic degree. Any woman he paid attention to for more than two decades was going to be a lot more than a booty call.

Which meant, the presence of one third of the Avengers notwithstanding, that she was the one he made his way to first.

She showing something on her phone to a young woman in a police uniform when he arrived.  

“Excuse me.  You’re Ms. Custis, yes?” Ward asked.  “I’m Agent Grant Ward of SHIELD. Phil Coulson sent me.”

"Thank you,” Ms. Custis said, as the police officer set off across the Mall, talking into the radio clipped to her uniform.   Ms. Custis turned her attention to Ward. “You have ID, I assume?”

“Of course,” he said, and flipped the badge open.  She looked at it slightly longer than he was expecting.  

“Nice to meet you, Agent Ward.  You got here quickly. Did Phil have you stashed some place nearby in case of an emergency?”

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“If I’m surprised by anything it’s that there’s only one of you.  Phil would send a fully armed battalion if he thought it was necessary.”

“I suppose he thought Thor would be at least that useful,” Ward said.

Ms. Custis smiled.  “Perhaps. Well, let me get you up to speed.  The police are setting up blockades ten blocks out all the way around the Mall, and stopping traffic in from Virginia.  They’ll work on getting the civilians off the Mall and off the streets within that area. Dr. Banner is scanning the statues -- Angelica tells us they’re replicas of a pair of bronze statues by Kim Crowley, but that the faces have been changed, and she can’t identify the metal.”

“And who’s Angelica?”

“Dr. Banner’s AI.   She lives in a very fancy wrist watch and some glasses designed by Tony Stark.  He’s on his way, so is Phil with Agents Barton and Song, and I think they’re sending someone to try to find Captain Rogers.  Have you met . . . ?”

“Agents Song and Barton, yes.  Captain Rogers just in passing.  The others, not yet.”

“Well, let me introduce you,” Ms. Custis said, turning toward Thor.

It was the last thing Grant Ward remembered from the National Mall.

 

***

“We have lost all communication from Dr. Banner,” Jarvis reported.  “Including all automatic data transfer from Angelica.”

“What caused that?” Tony asked, banking as he passed the Jefferson Memorial.

“Unknown.”

“All right.  Wide scan as we approach, weapons on standby.”

The National Mall seemed more panicked than Tony was expecting.  The reports Angelica had sent Jarvis indicated that people were reacting with more confusion and curiosity than alarm.

That Tony was seeing as he came in for a landing was people running.

“There is no sign of Dr. Banner on the National Mall,” Jarvis reported.  “I also cannot find Ms. Custis.”

Tony landed next to Thor.

“What’s going on?”

“Dr. Banner, the Lady Valerie, and . . . several dozen other people have just vanished.” Thor said.  “From all around.”

“Vanished?  How?”

“I don’t know.  They were here and then they were not.”

“So why didn’t you vanish?”

“Perhaps whatever took them was only interested in Midgardians.”

“That doesn’t sound like it’s going to end well,” Tony said.  “Jarvis, update Agent Coulson. Keep scanning. Let me know if you find anything useful.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

“I will assist the police with removing the remaining bystanders to safety,” Thor said.  

“All right.  Keep an eye on things over here, though.  I might need you.”

“Remind me what we’re looking for,” Thor said.

“Hell if I know,” Tony admitted.

 

***

Bruce Banner had been having a pretty good day.  It had been a fairly uneventful trip down -- once they’d gotten Miller off the plane and the plane off the ground.  Valerie had sent a car and her assistant to meet them at the airport. Bruce had to hand it to Miranda Hamilton: she seemed neither intimidated nor jaded by the fact that she was meeting a couple of Avengers, one of whom was a prince and a demigod.  It was a difficult line to walk, and Bruce had seen any number of people come down way too far on one side or the other of it.

Valerie had met them at the Smithsonian with some fabulous almond cookies and the kind of gift bags you only get when you’re some sort of VIP.  Thor had promptly put on his Smithsonian baseball cap, much to the delight of the various bigwigs who happened to “drop by.” (Most of them were not as good at the line as Miranda.)  Bruce had decided not to put his on. A baseball cap made Thor look like he was off to pitch for the New York Mets (or at least the museum softball team). It made Bruce look like a slightly sketchy security guard.

Still, it was nice to be fussed over a little, while still letting someone else soak up most of the limelight.  It had been a pretty good day.

And now . . .

Opening his eyes seemed like too much work, so Bruce lay on his back listening to the voices around him.

"If I’ve counted correctly, it’s a hundred people,” Valerie was saying.  “Including 23 rising sixth graders at a summer camp from Lakeshore Christian Academy and three of their chaperones.  About half of them are awake.”

“The two over there only speak Cantonese and mine’s rusty,” a man’s voice answered.  “But everyone else who’s awake is calm. Or as calm as can be expected.”

“Do we know anything about where we are?” Valerie asked.  

“No one’s phone works.  No windows. One outline in the far wall that might be a door, but no apparent way to open it.”

“There’s buffet table with water, cranberry juice, and what looks like an array of canapes from a warehouse store,” Valerie said.  “Also, a sheet cake that says ‘wait for it,’ which is either instructional, threatening, or both.”

“Regardless, we probably shouldn’t eat anything.”

“Agreed,” Valerie said.  

Bruce managed to get his eyes open and groaned as the light hit them.  Valerie and the man she was talking to both turned to him.

“Are you all right, Dr. Banner?” the man asked.

Bruce sat up slowly.  He wondered if the question was a general inquiry into his well-being or an assessment of the likelihood he was about to go all green and violent.  “I’m not _not_ all right,” he said, finally.  “What happened? It’s a blur, sir.”  They’d been on the Mall, examining the statues and now they were . . . “Where are we?”

“We’re not sure,” Valerie said, coming over.  “We woke up here. Or are waking up here. This is Agent Ward.  Phil sent him.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bruce said, slightly automatically.  

“Can you scan things like you did on the Mall?” Valerie asked Bruce.  

“I can try,” he said, tapping the button on the side of his glasses.  

“All right,” Agent Ward said briskly.  “We--”

“Welcome,” said a pleasant female voice.  

On the opposite wall, the words DON’T PANIC appeared in large, friendly letters.  At the far end of the room, the door opened, and something rolled into the room before the door closed behind it.

“Someone’s read Adams,” Bruce said.

Valerie blinked.  “John?”

“Douglas.”

“Please take a number,” the voice continued.

The rolling thing turned out to be a cartoonish white robot with smiling emojis for eyes and a deli-style number dispenser where its hand should be rolled over.

Ward, Valerie, and Bruce exchanged glances.  “I’m not sure we should touch anything,” Ward said.

“Please take a number,” the voice repeated.

“Thanks but we’ll pass,” Bruce said.  

“Take a number,” the voice said, still pleasant, but with a bit more of an edge.  The robot’s eyes went from smiles to frowns.

“For what?” Valerie asked.

“Take a number,” the voice repeated, and the robot’s eyes were suddenly little death skulls.

“I think we’re being threatened,” Bruce said.

“Take a number.”

“It’s just a piece of paper, right?” Valerie asked, reaching for it.  

“Let me go first,” Ward said.  He tore the first number from the robot’s dispenser, and the robot’s eyes went back to frowns.  Valerie and Bruce followed suit, and back to smiles, the robot rolled off to the next person.

Valerie frowned at the paper in her hand.  “I got the square root of seventeen. What about you?”

“Pi cubed,” Ward said.  “You, Dr. Banner?”

“Um . . . forty-two.”

Someone had definitely read Adams.

“The assessments will begin shortly,” said the voice.

“Assessments of what?” Bruce asked, but there was no answer from the disembodied voice.

“See if you can get any information with your scanner,” Ward said.  “I’m going to check that door.”

***

“He’s not answering,” River said, putting her phone back on her belt.  “I left another message.”

“There’s never a Time Lord around when you need one,” Clint muttered.  “Which is ironic, when you think about it.”

The National Mall was largely deserted.  Clint, River, and Phil had arrived about five minutes ago.  Stark’s update on the situation when they arrived could largely be summarized as _nothing new to report_.  

Near the base of the Hamilton statue, Phil was on the phone with Fury.  If you didn’t know the man, he would have appeared completely calm about the fact that approximately 100 people, including his girlfriend, had just disappeared without explanation.

But Clint knew the man.  He might look calm, but the pacing was the equivalent of freaking the fuck out for anyone else.

“I still can’t believe he sent Ward to keep an eye on her.”

“He worries,” River said.

“Right.  I get why he sent _someone_ , but he’s not the choice I would have gone with.”

“He’s a good agent,” River said, though without any real effort to the argument.  River knew how Clint felt about the man.

"So people keep telling me,” Clint muttered.

“What now?” River asked, with the air of someone looking to change the subject.

Clint shrugged.  “There’s nothing to do.  Nothing to shoot or hit. No information.  No threat we can actually react to. It sucks.”

River’s phone chimed.

“The Doctor?” Clint asked.

She glanced at the screen.  “Message from Lin. He found Steve.  Traffic in the city is a mess right now, though, so Steve’s headed in on foot.”

“That’s what?  Two and a half, three miles?  Shouldn’t take him that long,” Clint said.

“Then he can join us in . . . standing around on the National Mall, waiting for something to happen,” River said.

Thor drifted over to join them.

“Have you ever seen anything like this before?” River asked.

Thor shook his head.  “No. I’m past patiently waiting.  I find this inactivity frustrating.  There is nothing to fight.”

“I mean, I guess that’s preferable to space whales and hordes of aliens all actively trying to kill us, while threatening the civilian population and infrastructure,” Clint said.  “Or winding up on the moon.”

The three of them looked at each other.

“We could try knocking on the statues,” River said.  “Maybe there’s someone inside.”

“Stark already tried that,” Thor said.

“The thing I don’t understand is . . . why Hamilton and Burr?” Clint said.  “I mean, it’s not John Jay or Roger Sherman levels of obscure for the Founding Fathers, but it’s up there, right?  There are literally dozens of figures from that era that are more well-known than these two. It’s the most famous duel in US history, I’ll give it that, but it’s weird.  So it has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

Thor and River stared at him.  “I don’t know these men,” Thor said after a moment.

“And I’m Scottish,” River added.

“Right,” Clint said.  “I guess I could try shooting one of the statues.  That’s kind of historically accurate.”

They looked up at Aaron Burr.

River’s phone buzzed again.

“The Doctor?” Clint asked, as she looked down at the screen.

“Steve.  He’s being arrested on the bridge.”

“I guess one of us should tell Phil,” Clint said.

The three of them looked at each other.

“Rochambeau?” Clint suggested.

“I don’t understand,” Thor said.

“It’s the same as rock, paper, scissors,” River said.  "It's a game."

Thor raised Mjolnir.  “I have my hammer. Will that make an acceptable replacement?”

“That wins,” Clint said.  “You can tell him.”

***

There wasn’t a lot Angelica could tell them about the room, and Valerie couldn’t see how any of it was especially useful.  They knew the exact dimensions of the space (36’2” x 67’ 3.5”), the height of the ceiling (12.25”), and the color of the walls (Pantone 11-4202 TCX, Star White).  

On the plus side, scans did indicate that the food was probably safe and appeared to have originated on Earth.  Depending on how long they were all here, they might have to eat some of it at some point.

The robot had finished going around and handing out numbers, then rolled into a corner and went into some kind of sleep or hibernation mode.  Angelica’s scans of it were somewhat less than conclusive, though it was the same white as the walls.

Agent Ward hadn’t been able to investigate the door -- there was some sort of invisible force field up around it.  Angelica didn’t have any information on that. Her scans didn’t even register that it was there.

The people in the room were mostly doing a good job of staying at least outwardly calm, though Valerie wasn’t sure how long that was going to last.

“Your attention, please,” said the same disembodied voice.  “Scanning will begin in one minute.”

The door opened and another of the robots rolled in, though this one lacked the number dispenser.

“Scanning?” Bruce said.  “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure.  Could be innocuous, could be really bad,” Agent Ward said.

“Scanning will begin in thirty seconds.”

“Doesn’t that watch of yours know anything?” Agent Ward asked.

“Nothing beyond what I’ve already --”  

There was a loud beep from the watch.  Valerie and Ward looked at Bruce.

“Well?” Valerie asked.

“I’ve hit 10,000 steps,” Bruce said.

“Well, that’s one less thing to worry about,” Valerie said.

“Scanning will begin now,” the voice said.

The robots rolled forward, stopping in front of a fairly excitable woman from Omaha.  Valerie was pretty sure her name was Peggy.

“What is it going to do?” Peggy asked.

“It’s going to be all right,” Valerie said, with as much conviction as she could muster.

A wide, green beam came out of the front of the robot and swept from the woman head to toe.

There was a second, and then a blue beam swept her from toe to head.  

"Thank you.”

The robot rolled off to someone else.

“How are you holding up, Bruce?” Valerie asked.

“Why does everybody keep asking me that?” he said.

“You know why,” Valerie said.  “If I freak out, I start screaming or crying or throwing canapes.  If you freak out . . .”

“We have an angry green rage monster in a room the size of a small hotel ballroom and full of civilians.  But I’m good at not freaking out.”

“Okay.  I’m just trying to feel like I’m doing something beyond waiting for Phil to rescue me,” she said.

“I’m sure they’re working on it,” Bruce said.

“I know.  Oh, I think it’s our turn,” Valerie said, as the robot rolled over.

***

It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

With traffic in DC snarled to slow crawl where it wasn’t just dead stopped, Steve had decided he’d have a better chance getting to the Mall on foot.   It was basically a straight shot across the Potomac, how hard could it be?

He had stopped on the DC side of Arlington Memorial Bridge to get his bearings, when the mounted police officer rode up and told him he couldn’t head into the city right now. 

Apparently, if you were going to try to convince a skeptical officer that you were an Avenger, it was better not to be out running in a dark two-piece suit and dress shoes.

“Okay, so we’re doing this,” Steve muttered, as the officer ordered him not to move and swung herself down off the horse.

He had just enough time to text River before he found himself in handcuffs.  

And, yeah, he could have gotten away pretty easily -- he was a super soldier, after all -- but, as Agent Miller would put it, the “optics” weren’t great on that.  And there was, of course, always the chance she would just shoot him.

Some days, Steve missed simply being able to punch Hitler in the face and get on with things.

“Look, I really am Captain America,” he said, for what felt like the fiftieth time.  

“And I’m Wonder Woman,” Officer Mulligan said.

“I’m pretty sure she’s fictional,” Steve muttered.  But before he could think of another argument to try, he heard what could only be the arrival of . . .

“Captain,” Stark said, coming to a stop and hovering two feet off the ground in his suit.  “This is why we don’t let you out on your own.”

“Stark,” Steve said.  “Thanks for dropping by.”

Officer Mulligan’s eyes had gotten very wide.  

“Officer,” Stark said, “would you mind letting him go?  They tell me we need him.”

“Of course,” she said.  “I’m so sorry. I just --”

“You were doing your job,” Steve said.  “It’s all right.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, dropping the handcuffs key.

“I’ve got this,” Steve said, and snapped the chain between the handcuffs.  “Thanks, though.”

Stark pointed past the Lincoln Memorial.  “See you on the Mall, Captain. It’s about a mile and half that way.  Try not to get arrested again between here and there, would you?”

 _Oh, I am never going to hear the end of this, am I?_ Steve thought, as he headed for the Mall at a run.

***

The robot had finished scanning everyone and had rolled over to the corner to join its number-dispensing friend.

“Please hold,” the disembodied voice said.

"Well, that me wonder what comes next,” Valerie said, pushing her hair back with one hand.

“I think it’s supposed to.”

After a moment, Muzak began to play.  Bruce was pretty sure he’d heard the tune before, but couldn’t place it.

Valerie glanced up at the ceiling and frowned.  “That’s weird.”

“Is there a part of this that isn’t?” Bruce asked.

But before she could answer, the disembodied voice said, “Your stress test will begin in two minutes,” and then the music continued.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Bruce said.

Agent Ward came jogging over from where he’d been talking to the field trip chaperones. “Stress test.  What do we do about that?”

“What do you mean?” Valerie asked.

“Call me crazy,” Ward said, “but I don’t she’s talking about having us all run on a treadmill.  What do we do about . . .”

“Me?” Bruce offered.

“Your stress test begin in one minute and thirty seconds.”

“No offense, Dr. Banner, but you could kill everyone in this room if you . . . I mean, do we knock you out in the next ninety seconds?”

“No,” Valerie said.

“The Other Guy probably wouldn’t care for it much if you tried,” Bruce said.  “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not sure that’s a risk we can afford to take,” Ward said.  “There’s no way to restrain you, we need to have some plan in place.”

“Your stress test will begin in one minute.”

“Agent Ward, I don’t exactly have a stress-free life on the best of days.  I handle it every day. I will handle it today.”

“Besides,” Valerie said, “if our stress test involves being attacked by these stupid robots, Bruce’s green alter ego might be the only thing that keeps any of us alive.”

“Let’s hope that’s not the case,” Bruce said.

“Your stress test will begin in thirty seconds.”

Valerie looked at the two men and shrugged.  “Here goes nothing, right? Try not to crack under the stress,” she said with a presumably fake cheer.

The Muzak stopped.  Some kind of arms came out of the wall and secured the two robots in the corner. 

“Your stress test begins . . . NOW.”

Electronic dance music, in French, began to blare.  The floor tilted to Bruce’s left, at what Angelica helpfully informed him was a 7.4 degree incline.  The sheet cake slide off table and landed with a wet plop.

“This isn’t so bad,” Bruce yelled, over the music.  Several of the children in the room began to cry.

A claxon sounded over the music.  The room went completely dark for a couple seconds, and then a red-tinted strobe light started flashing.   The entire room began to spin counter-clockwise. Water began to spray from the ceiling, carrying with it the distinct aroma of limes. Valerie gripped his arm.  The woman next to Agent Ward threw up.

“I might be wrong about that,” Bruce said, and he could feel the Other Guy start to grumble in his head.

***

  
Phil Coulson should never have allowed this to happen.

It wasn’t like Clint and River had needed him to be at the Triskelion this morning.  He could have -- no, he _should_ have changed his plans the moment he realized Valerie was going to be traipsing around downtown DC with two of the Avengers.  And then he would have been here to get her the hell away from these statues before . . . well, before whatever had happened had happened.

Instead, here he was.  Standing on the National Mall, 100 missing people, four bored Avengers, and nothing even remotely proactive or helpful to do.  

And Valerie . . .

Valerie . . .

Valerie was standing in front of Aaron Burr.

“Val!”

“Phil!”

People continued to appear on the Mall, but as far as Phil was concerned, someone else could worry about the other 99.  

“Are you all right?” he asked, reaching her, his hands going to either side of her face.

“I’m fine,” she said.  “Glad to see you.”

“You’re . . . wet,” he said.  “And you smell like . . .”

“A margarita?” Valerie offered.  “There was a lime-scented shower there at the end.  And then the robots gave us all these, and the voice thanked us for our assistance with their assessments.”  Valerie held out a paper gift bag, with a picture of a kitten wearing a straw hat. “Then they sent us back.”

“We should probably quarantine those,” he said, rather than trying to unpack her comment.  They should probably quarantine the people, too, honestly. And debrief them.

“It’s a bag of Swedish fish and a washrag,” Valerie said, “but sure, you can have it.  Do whatever you want with it.”

Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr vanished.

"Are you sure you’re okay?” Phil said, turning his attention back to Valerie.

“I’m not hurt,” Valerie said.  “It’s been an odd day. I need to check on Mina.”

“Okay,” Phil said.  “We’re going to have to talk to everybody.  Try to figure out what happened.”

“I don’t think we know, but all right,” Valerie said.  “Any chance you can question me at home? I’d really like to take a shower.”

“I’ll see what we can do,” Phil said, as Clint and River came up.

“Hundred people,” Clint said.  “We think it’s everyone.”

“No major injuries,” River added.  “Just a lot of people who are dizzy or nauseated.  Shaken up.”

“Well, the room was spinning,” Valerie said.   “No, literally. Like a carnival ride in hell.”

“Sounds . . . fun,” Clint said.  “What do you want us to do now, Phil?”

“Get a bus or two, get to everyone to the Triskelion.  Debrief them, treat anyone who needs medical attention, notify worried loved ones, etcetera.  Put Ward in charge of it.”

“What?” Clint asked.  “Why Ward?”

“He was there, he knows what questions to ask,” Phil said.  “I want to meet with the six of you. See what Stark and Banner make of any data they have.  Talk about the responses. Figure out what we’re going to do next time.”

“Next time there are giant statues of your founding fathers staring each other down on the National Mall?” River asked.

“Yes,” Phil said.

“You can use my house,” Valerie said.  “I’ve got a lot of lasagna in the freezer in the basement.  Should be enough to go around, even with Thor and Steve.”

“Works for me,” Clint said.  

“All right, I’ll leave you to it,” Phil said.  “I need to call Fury.”

***

“This was odd even for us, right?” Clint asked, as they watched a pair of SHIELD buses pull away from the National Mall, taking 97 shaken and citrus-scented people off to the Triskelion for debriefing.  “This would have been odd even for the Doctor.”

River automatically glanced at her phone again, though there was still no sign that the Doctor had made any attempt to get in touch with them.

“I mean, everything Valerie and Bruce just described?  It’s like . . . green-pill-induced dream levels of batshit.  Though, honestly, even when they gave me the green pills, I’m not sure I was ever that . . . _that_ ,” Clint continued, as they headed for the car waiting to take them to Valerie’s house.

River started to reply and then stopped as a familiar wheezing began, and a blue police box materialized, appropriately enough, in front of the Air and Space Museum. A moment later, the Doctor came bounding out.  “River! Clint! _There_ you are!”

River crossed her arms.   “Right where I said we were in six messages.  Where have _you_ been?”

“I went to the National Mall.”

“Pretty sure you didn’t, Doc,” Clint said.

“I went to the National Mall in Gucci.”

Clint looked at River.  “Does that sentence make sense to you?”

“Earthcorp.  Twenty-second century planet that based its entire society on intercepted broadcasts of 20th and 21st century American television.  One of the countries is Gucci, which is governed from a mall in its capital city of Kardashian,” River said.

“Because this day wasn’t weird enough already,” Clint muttered.

“What the hell would I be doing on Earthcorp?” River asked the Doctor.

“Ah.  Well, yes, when you put it that way . . .” the Doctor said.  

“So you’ve been wandering the National Mall of Gucci, looking for us?”

“Well, not exactly,” the Doctor said.  “There was something interesting going on in Sondheim.”

“Is that the Broadway-based country?” Clint asked, and both River and the Doctor nodded.

“Two of their statues disappeared, right off the banks of Showboat River.”

“Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr?” River asked.

“Reappeared with no explanation right before you came here?” Clint added.

“Er, yes.  How did you . . .?”

"Come on, Doctor,” River said.  “Valerie’s making lasagna, and we’ll fill you in at her place.  You can give us a lift.”

River waved off their SHIELD car, and started for the TARDIS, but Clint was still standing, staring at the roof of the Air and Space Museum.  River glaced up, but didn’t see anything.

“Everything all right?”

“There isn’t a Broadway play about Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr, is there?” Clint said.  “They’re not even characters in _1776_.”

The Doctor grinned.  “Oh, just you wait.”

***

“Captain Rogers?  Do you want a cheese straw?  Aunt Valerie says dinner is going to be a little while yet.”

“A what?” Steve asked, staring at the plate Valerie’s niece was holding out to him, which appeared to be filled with some kind of long thin cookies.

“A cheese straw?” Mina said.

“And what’s a cheese straw?”

“Well it’s . . . it’s . . . it’s really good,” Mina said.  “I think you’d like it.”

“All right, I’ll try one, then.  Thanks,” Steve said.

“You’re welcome.”  Mina moved on to where Stark and Banner had taken over the coffee table and were comparing notes from Jarvis and Angelica.  Banner, to Steve’s eye, looked even less comfortable than usual, though that might have been explained by the fact that he was wearing Coulson’s borrowed clothes.

Steve took a cautious bite of his cheese straw.  Mina was right, it was good, but he was not expecting the Tabasco.   Steve got up and headed to the kitchen in search of something to drink.

“You know what the weird thing was?” Valerie was saying to Coulson as Steve came in.

“ _The_ weird thing?  Singular?” Coulson asked.

“The hold music,” Valerie said.  “I swear it was the same as what SHIELD uses.  Or at least the same as they were using that time Nick Fury called me.  When you were still in Medical.”

“Are you sure?” Coulson asked.  “That was months ago.”

“I thought I was waiting for someone to tell me you had died, Phil,” Valerie said.  “I will know that recording of Toto’s ‘Africa’ for the rest of my life. And then I heard it again in that room.  That’s weird, right?”

“Yeah, it’s weird.  Not sure it means, but it’s weird. ” Coulson looked over and saw him.  “Cap? Do you need something?”

“I was looking for something to drink.  The cheese straw was spicier than I was expecting.”

“Of course,” Valerie said.  “There’s iced tea, lemonade, some sodas, juice, milk, water, beer, wine, various liquors . . .  What would you like, Steve?”

“Does any of that have Tabasco sauce?”

“Only the lemonade,” Valerie said.

“Seriously?”

“No, not even a little bit.”

“I think I’ll take the iced tea anyway.”

“Sure,” Valerie said, pulling a glass out of the cabinet behind her and handing it to him.  “Pitcher on the right is sweet, on the left is unsweet.”

“And when she says sweet, she means _sweet_ ,” Coulson said.

“Yankee heathen,” Valerie said, rolling her eyes.

Clint came into the kitchen.  “The Great Sweet Tea Debate?” he asked, and Steve nodded.  “Hey, Phil? Agent Jackass is doing a press conference.”

“I knew there was no way Clint called him ‘Miller,’” Valerie said, turning on the television on the counter.

“--comment,” Miller said, to the bank of microphones in his face.  

“Does SHIELD know where the statues came from?”

“We have no information on that at this time.”

“Reports from the scene indicate that the Avengers were --”

“I wasn’t on the scene, so I’m afraid I cannot speak to that,” Miller said.

“Some people are reporting that Captain America was --”

“Again, I wasn’t there, and I have not been able to reach the Avengers to verify any of the rumors you’ve heard.”

“He’s terrible,” Valerie said.  “What is he doing?”

“He’s sulking live on national television,” Coulson said.

“This prick is askin’ for someone to bring him to task,” Clint said.  “Sorry, Valerie.”

She shrugged the apology off.  “It’s not like what he’s trying to do here is all that hard.    All he has to say something to the effect of . . .” Valerie paused for a second, and then continued, “ _Let’s focus on the important thing.  No one was injured, and all of the people who temporarily vanished are, this evening, back with their loved ones.  While we don’t yet know the exact cause of today’s events, there did not appear to be any hostile intent. And fortunately, some of the best scientific minds in the country, Tony Stark and Dr. Bruce Banner, as well as the brilliant scientists affiliated with the Smithsonian, were all on site to observe and record data.  We know that they are hard at work analyzing that information even now, and as we have new details, you’ll hear them here first._ ”

The kitchen fell silent, and then Miller snapped from the television, “No comment.”

Coulson turned the press conference off.  “Excuse me. I’m going to go talk to Stark about releasing everything Val just said as a Stark Industries press statement, and then I need to talk to Fury about getting that man reassigned to . . . literally anything else.”

“Don’t forget the part about the brilliant scientists at the Smithsonian,” Valerie called as Phil went into the living room.

Clint pulled a beer out of Valerie’s refrigerator with the ease of a frequent visitor.  “Cap?” he asked.

Steve looked at the glass he still hadn’t gotten around to filling with either sweet or unsweet tea and then nodded.

“So,” Clint said, opening his own beer and settling onto one of the stools at Valerie’s kitchen island, “out of curiosity, what did you make of Agent Ward?”

Valerie shrugged.  “He seemed okay. Polite.  Calm. Why do you ask?”

“Because, frankly, I don’t trust him as far as Mina could throw him.”

“Does Coulson know that?” Steve asked.

“Yeah.  I don’t make a secret of it.”

“Why don’t you trust him?” Valerie asked.

 “Just never have.  There’s something off about that guy.”

Valerie looked at him for a moment and then nodded.  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.

“Thanks.  You need help with anything in here?”

“I need to make a salad.  You can chop things.”

“I can help, too,” Steve said.

“Dibs on not the onions,” Clint said.

***

**Coda**

The signal, in the form of a take out menu for a Chinese restaurant hanging from his doorknob, was waiting at Peter Stone’s off-base apartment when he arrived home that evening.  No doubt the boss wanted to have a word about Washington DC.

The Vortex manipulator that lived in his safe was still set to hits home Time and Space coordinates.  Stone slipped the device onto his wrist and activated it. His apartment faded out around him. After a hazy moment of nothingness a new environment began to take shape, this one of gleaming metal bulkheads and men and women in fatigues.  As Stone’s surroundings solidified, one uniformed man broke away from his unit and came to greet him with a salute.

Stone dutifully saluted back.  “Madame Kovarian wants to see me,” he said.

Madame Kovarian, Dr. Weatherby, and Colonel Manton were in a conference room viewing half a dozen screens showing scenes from the US National Mall and the interior of the “stress test center.”   Grant Ward was there as well, looking peeved and muttering to Manton.

Stone couldn’t quite keep his lip from curling. He had never had much use for the little upstart.  Ward, like his supervising officer, John Garrett, were “Phase 2 Silence.” People like Stone had joined the Silence at its origin point in the 52nd Century and then had been planted back along Earth’s timeline.  Ward and Garrett and others like them were products of the 20th and 21st Centuries who had been recruited to the cause.

There was a bit of snobbery between the two factions in both directions.

Kovarian turned when Stone entered.

“Stone.  Thank you for coming.”  She frowned at him. “I believe you’ve aged more since the last time I saw you.”

“That’s what happens when you take the slow way,” Stone said.  At Madame Kovarian’s raised eyebrow he added. “Ma’am. With respect.”

“We were just reviewing your latest operation,” Manton said.  “Would you care to explain yourself?”

“I’m not sure what you’d like me to explain, sir.  You have my report, not to mention all of the data from the testing center.”

“And that data will prove useful,” Dr. Weatherby said in an oily voice.  “It’s your methodology that we find rather unorthodox.”

Stone raised his eyes to the center screen where the giant statues of the two revolutionaries were squaring off with pistols.  He couldn’t help but smile. It had been a good one, hadn’t it?

Naturally his superiors failed to see the humor.  The Silence always took everything so bloody seriously.

“You assigned me a task,” Stone said, folding his arms.  “You wanted to see how the Avengers would react to an emergency situation with no warning or time to prepare.  Not exactly a small order, by the way. I managed to achieve the objective in such a way that not a single person got hurt.”  Stone nodded to the screens. “So, what’s the problem with my methods?”

“They’re ridiculous,” Ward replied, clearly not able to keep his mouth shut any longer.  “Dueling statues and a techno-pop stress test?”

“What’s wrong, Ward?  Didn’t enjoy your lime shower?” Stone shot back.  “You’re supposed to be made of sterner stuff.” Stone turned his attention back to Madame Kovarian.  “The ridiculousness was calculated. SHIELD will never tie the incident to anything important. Sure, they’ll _wonder_ about it.  They’ll say, _Well, that was crazy, wasn’t it?_  But they won’t think that it means anything.  Why? Because it was ridiculous.”

“You do realize that one of the people you managed to beam up was Agent Coulson’s girlfriend, right?” Ward replied.  “That woman is smart. And Coulson? He’s going to be like a dog with a bone trying to figure this out. You must be out of your Goddamn mind if you think he’ll let it drop.  You could have jeopardized everything.”

“Don’t lecture me about jeopardizing everything, boy.  I’ve been with the Silence longer than you’ve been alive.  As for Ms. Custis, she was supposed to have been up to her very attractive hips in brontosaurus bones at go time.  How was I supposed to anticipate she’d be running half an hour behind schedule?”

“Gentlemen, that will do!”  Madame Kovarian held up her hand for quiet.  “Regardless of what we think of Peter’s methods, the operation has concluded and it did yield results.  I’ll finish the debrief from here. The rest of you are dismissed.”

It was far from the most ringing endorsement Stone had ever received, but Ward shut up and settled for looking dour.  He followed Weatherby and Manton out of the conference room.

“Do you have anything further to report?” Kovarian asked.  “How are things at SHIELD Headquarters?”

“Much the same as they were in my last dispatch,” Stone replied.  “They don’t suspect a thing, not even River Song.”

“ _Melody Pond_ ,” Kovarian corrected. “And that’s good.  Keep a close watch on her for us, Peter.”

“Yes, ma’am.”


End file.
